


Two Minutes for Hooking

by poor_dumb_killian, Zengoalie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Athletes, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-26 21:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5021806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_dumb_killian/pseuds/poor_dumb_killian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zengoalie/pseuds/Zengoalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan, a member of the newly formed professional women's hockey league, has a chance meeting with hockey all-star Killian Jones after an aggravating loss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brooke2broch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooke2broch/gifts).



> Happy birthday Heather (Look! It’s not midnight yet). We decided to split this into two parts in the most evil way we could imagine. So enjoy the suspended UST until part two is written and perfected in the next few days (YAY for extended birthday gifts). Many thanks for beta duties by KK (onceuponsomechaos), Bunny (wingedlioness) and Miranda (captain-k-jones).
> 
> And there is a new women’s Professional hockey league (nwhl.co) and the Pride is the Boston team. Games stream free on youtube, support the ladies!

Each shot Emma buried in the net relieved some of her frustration. She spun on her skates and looped around to rip another slap shot into the upper corner.

_If only I’d been able to do that in the game earlier._

In the solace of her childhood rink, rocketing shots off the boards was helping to forget the loss, although punching the Mills sisters in the face would work better. Maybe hitting the bar, grabbing a drink and ending her dry spell would also alleviate some of her frustrations.

“You know, love,” an accented voice interrupted her thoughts, “your stick is a spot too long for you.”

She cut hard on her skates and turned to look at the owner of the offending voice, expecting to see another know-it-all from the men’s novice league taking pity on the _girl_.

Except it was anything but.

It was _Killian Jones_ , two-time hockey all-star, leaning casually against the bench, watching her with an interested expression. A wave of surprise washed over her. Had she magically conjured the very person who starred in a few of her fantasies?

 _What is he doing here?_ _Granny’s tiny rink certainly isn’t a regular stop for professional players._

On television, he was far too attractive. In person, the mere sight of his blue eyes increased her heart rate.

"Is that so?” She silently praised herself for not sounding too breathless before she rifled another puck towards the net. After a lap around the rink, she skated in his direction.

He was still leaned against the boards, smirk on his face, as she approached. "Just a spot too long,” he teased, “Unless you enjoy that."

 _God, was he just like all the others?_ She wasn’t in the mood to be belittled as a player by another man, especially Killian Jones.

She stopped quickly, sending a shower of ice in his direction. "You should know that it’s not the size, but how you use it.”

_Did I really just say that to Killian-freaking-Jones._

“You’re a tough lass, aren’t you?” he chuckled, “I’ve got some time if you’d like some pointers.”

"I’m busy," she spun away from him, returning to her pile of pucks at center ice. His notoriety was legendary and she wouldn’t be another bimbo in the Killian Jones trophy case. She smacked a few that had frozen together in the pile, possibly with more gusto than needed.

He nodded, “You know, Swan, there are better ways to blow off steam than taking it out on the pucks.”

Emma raised an eyebrow at him - _How did he know my name?_

She wondered briefly if he had been one of the few scattered fans in the stands to catch the matinee of her game. It was embarrassing enough to lose, but if he’d seen Zelena throw her temper tantrum on the bench that would’ve been even worse; certainly not the behavior for a professional hockey player. She’d rather pretend no one watched at all - especially not _him_.

“You think you can help?” she asked and returned to the boards where he waited. “Seriously? You think you know how I should _blow off some steam."_

Granted it had been awhile since she’d ‘blown off steam’ or had any true physical release. Training and practice didn’t leave much time to date.

She flipped a puck up at him and his gloved-hand flashed up to snag it. “Oh I have a few ideas, love.”

The wink he shot her way made her falter on her skates, but she recovered quickly. “You are awfully presumptuous, Captain Hook.”

“So, you know who I am.”

“I haven’t been living under a rock,” she deadpanned. Everyone in Boston knew who he was - they also knew his penchant to hook other players with his stick.

His tongue darted out to moisten his lower lip as he chuckled. “Drills could do you some good.”

She wasn’t surprised to hear another innuendo, he had a well-known reputation as the team bad boy, and seeing that tongue put thoughts in her head. Thoughts of him trailing it along her collarbone or using it to...

“Plus,” he interrupted and flashed his very blue eyes at her, “You can’t practice passing drills alone.”

She looked at him suspiciously. Never one to back down from a challenge - especially one presented by an all-star - Emma offered her own. “Great, so you’ll be making passes at me for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Only if you can handle them.” He grabbed his helmet off the bench and swung himself over the boards. She noticed him cringe as his torso bent, and was reminded of his recently reported injury.

“Oh, I can handle it,” she said, smirk forming, “I’d be worried about your ribs though, old man.”

He slid to a stop in front of her, “No one reported it was my ribs, Swan.”

“They didn’t have to,” Emma leaned against the dasher and smiled smugly, “You just gave yourself away.”

“Good eye,” he said with a genuine smile as he started to skate backwards, moving away from her.

In all the pictures and interviews she had seen from the media, she never saw him smile like that. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the harsh lighting of the rink; it made him even more handsome.

_Stop ogling him, Emma. He’s here to play hockey._

He turned and she watched as he took a few loops around the rink, warming up his legs. There was a grace to his skating across the ice that didn’t come with training - he was a natural. She was easily able to fantasize he’d be that fluid in bed.

Killian rounded the circle and crossed over gaining speed. She sprang into motion, catching up to him as he flew by and dished a perfect pass up to his stick before criss-crossing behind him, heading towards the net.

“Good form, Swan!” He grinned and snapped a return pass to her for a perfect tip into the net. Her cheeks heated at his sincere compliment; it was rare to be admired for her skill by a male hockey player.

They looped around the rink a few more times passing the puck back and forth before she pulled up to the boards for a short break.

He slid in next to her, lifting his helmet to squirt water into his mouth. She tried not to stare at the lines of his throat as he gulped down the water, but failed miserably.

He caught her eye with a flash of curiosity, “So how long have you been playing?”

Emma was trying to judge if he was being condescending or if he was genuinely interested. Most men complained that women didn’t belong on the ice; they believed that without the violent body checking, the women’s game wasn’t worth the time.

She wasn’t exactly sure what to make of the man in front of her. If men weren’t mocking her for playing hockey, then they were usually intimidated and scared off from getting to know her. Killian didn’t seem fazed at all. The way he seemed to relish being on the ice with her showed a genuine love of the game. It was hard not to get caught up in his enthusiasm and charm.

“No need to question my motives,” Killian said, filling the silence, “I simply wanted to compliment you on your skating.”

Emma ignored the thrill that flowed through her. Instead, she wondered what he wanted from her. She rolled her eyes, “You’re trying to butter me up.”

She pushed off the boards and skated back to the pile of pucks. She could hear the sound of his skates on the ice as he raced up behind her.

“No, just a friendly observation,” he responded as he flew by her and snagged a puck from the pile.

“Hockey is not a friendly game.” She picked up speed as he passed to her and moved behind the net.

She followed after and sped to catch up to him. They rounded the rink and she smiled as she kicked the puck out in front of them and into the corner.

Killian arched an eyebrow at her and turned to retrieve the puck from against the boards. Emma accelerated and grinned devilishly while she threw her hip into his; checking him lightly against the board and stealing the puck off his stick. She spun away and sprinted down the ice to flip it into the goal.

“Isn’t body checking illegal in women’s hockey?” he chased her down, hooking her arm with his stick.

“Checking is a penalty,” she glanced down at his stick, “As well as hooking,” she grinned in challenge. “What’s the matter, Jones?” she grabbed the shaft shoving it back at him. “ Afraid of a little... _contact_?”

She couldn’t believe she just said that to an All-Star NHL player.

Killian’s expression grew almost predatory as he moved towards her and boxed her against the boards, leaving only enough space to keep them from touching. Emma flushed as heat built between them, even through the layers of padding and equipment.

“I would never shy away from a beautiful woman’s hips -” he licked his lips and her eyes darted down to follow. His grin grew wider as he continued, “Checking me or otherwise.”

He was out of her space and skating down the ice before her brain had a chance to catch up. Emma shook off the pang of disappointment now that he wasn’t pressing her close and refocused to get back into hockey mode.

They proceeded to spend the next hour running through drills up and down the ice without another blatant flirting incident. Killian pointed out slight changes in her hand placement and gave her pointers on her slap-shot.

They sat back on the bench to relax after they were done. “Well, Swan, same time Thursday?” Killian asked.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again, but something didn’t add up. “Don’t you have a team to practice with, Jones?”

“Uh - aye,” he averted his eyes and scratched behind his ear, “Well, not exactly at the moment - no.”

She was even more confused now, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat and looked up at her with a guilty expression, “The team doctor won’t clear me to be back out on the ice - uh - yet, at least.”

“What?” she smacked him on the arm, “You are supposed to listen to your doctor, dumbass.”

“He’s a bloody idiot,” Killian said defensively, “I’m _fine_. At least… well, I’m good enough to practice.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, “You’re an idiot.”

“Aye,” he shrugged, “So Thursday?”

“If you’re lucky,” she shot back at him confidently as the doors opened and the Zamboni lumbered its way onto the ice to clear the scraped up evidence of their hard work.

* * *

 

“Swan!” he cheered, already on the ice, “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.”

His smile was infectious and she couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning up in reply.

“I couldn’t let you off the hook that easy, Jones,” she said as she slipped onto the ice with him, “Someone’s got to keep you in peak physical condition.”

“Oh? Up for a bit of body contact are we?” He raised a mischievous eyebrow at her.

She playfully tapped his rear end with her stick, “What about those sore ribs?”

Killian skated around her, joyfully keeping the puck out of her stick’s reach, before she poked it away and tried to make a move around him. He trapped her along the boards, pressing his chest into the numbers on her back, the puck sliding away forgotten, “They’re on the mend, love,” his breath tickled her ear while he spoke, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the temperature in the rink, “Although I am pleased you’re concerned with my well-being.”

Emma turned around to face him before he sealed her tighter against the boards, caging her in between his arms. His eyes twinkled with delight; she found it very hard to think of a witty comeback.

”Hmm,” she tried desperately to ignore his musky scent surrounding her, “How did you know my motives were anything more than concern for the Bruin’s cup chances this year?”

He threw his head back in laughter as he skated backwards from her; she missed the heat of his body instantly. “Aye, that’s a fair point, lass.” He stooped to relocate a cone, “Although, you’ll be happy to hear I’ve got an appointment with the doc to perhaps clear me for practice with the team.”

Emma schooled her features to not show the stab of disappointment when she heard that bit of news. This routine was something she found herself looking forward to. She pushed the anxiety down and slipped back into the easy banter they shared.

“How about we work on,” she paused, trying to keep a straight face,  “Stick handling?”

Killian chuckled and continued setting up cones. “Time to get to work, Swan.”

* * *

 

“You’re bloody unstoppable on the ice, love,” Killian said as they pushed into Granny’s co-ed locker room after their third ice session. “You could give a lot of men in the league a run for their money.”

She’d kept up with him on every stick handling drill he’d laid out.

She laughed, but it came out more as a scoff. “Even the lowest paid men in the league get more for one game than the professional women players make in an entire year.” She sat and started loosening her skates. “I already run enough for my money, thanks.”

“That’s a bloody shame,” he said as he sat to shed his own skates.

Emma had shared a locker room with men countless times, but this was the first time she had to actively fight the urge to check someone out. Killian shed his shin pads and was standing to tug off his jersey as she tried to focus on her own routine.

The sound of velcro tearing drew her attention as he shucked his shoulder pads and exposed his sculpted torso in a skintight, black Under Armor shirt. She gulped hard, unable to draw her eyes away from him.

He was a perfect specimen, and he knew it. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk as he deliberately peeled his shirt up, exposing inch after inch of skin. She learned that his chest hair dwindled to a perfect happy trail down his six-pack abs before disappearing below the waist of his pants.

She licked her lips as her eyes travelled its path before a throat clearing startled her to awareness. She entire body warmed in embarrassment as amusement danced with the banked heat in his eyes. He raised an eyebrow high as he unlaced his bulky hockey pants and _slowly_ started to draw them down his legs, and she focused on her own pads to save what little dignity she had left.

“I wanted to thank you, Killian,” she started hesitantly, “for all your help.” She trained her eyes on his face, avoiding the temptation to look below.

“Aye, well,” he smiled sheepishly, “It hasn’t been for purely selfless reasons, love. It’s been good to be back on the ice, and -” he paused for a moment, mischief twinkling in his eyes, “I must say, you’ve done well in kicking my arse up and down that rink.”

Her cheeks flushed with pride. She knew she was good, but men so rarely paid her ( _or any other female athlete for that matter_ ) genuine compliments. They would mostly grunt about her “not being bad for a girl.” She wasn’t sure what to say so she busied herself with removing the rest of her gear.

“Since you’re so good at kicking my arse, Friday night’s trivia night and the boys and I have a long standing tradition to kick each other’s arses.” He scratched at his ears as the tips turned red, “you should consider coming to the Tavern.”

“I - uh,” she stopped when she realized she had no idea what to say. She felt like a fish out of water, so silence seemed wiser.

_Is he serious?_

His fidgeting suggested he was, he had no other reason to be nervous. But did he really want her to hang out with his friends?

“Come now, Swan,” he smiled that sincere way that made her knees weak, “Surely an hour or two of your time can be bought with a libation or two?”

“Who talks like that?” she commented with a snort of laughter, “Just an hour or two?”

“Aye,” he bent to peel off his socks, reaching into his bag for a towel.

“Ok, trivia night,” she wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea; but somehow she was struggling saying no. “I’ll try to make it.”

“You know,” he drew her attention fully back to him, now standing in nothing but his boxer briefs and seductive grin plastered across his face. She tried to keep her eyes on his, not down at his muscular thighs or _anything else_ , but mostly failed. “I could use a hand scrubbing my back. Care to volunteer, Swan?”

Emma would like to say she hesitated because she was surprised and not because she’d actually wanted to. “ _Maybe_ next time.” She smirked as she put her elbow pads into her bag.

“My ribs make it hard to reach some places, your assistance will be missed,” he shrugged and turned to open the door to the shower room, leaving her alone to change into her sweats and brush out her sweaty hair.

She’d shower when she got home, and possibly use the time to relieve some built up pressure.

_Had he meant it about wanting her to join him in the shower?_

She was pulling her hair up into a ponytail when he padded back in, towel wrapped low around his waist. She flushed and turned her back to rearrange some of her gear in her bag, trying to adhere to the coed locker room etiquette of not gawking at him.

 _Again_.

She was already having a hard enough time keeping her head straight around him. They had amazing chemistry on the ice and part of her was curious what it would be like off-ice.

Once his ribs were healed, he may not be around the rink as often. She may never get another opportunity to see what it would be like to kiss Killian Jones.

He was buttoning up the top of his jeans when she turned back to put on her sneakers. Her eyes were drawn to his lips; his teeth worried at them as he concentrated on getting dressed.

_I wonder if those lips are as soft as they look?_

His chest was still glistening from the moisture of his hot shower, and she licked her lips as her eyes travelled down his torso once more.

_Fuck it._

She moved toward him as he eyed her with curiosity. He opened his mouth to speak, but with a quick breath Emma pressed her hands to his chest and dove in to seal her lips against his. He gasped and sank a little lower, hesitating a moment before his soft lips explored her own. Warmth raced down her body, curling her toes, and Emma tried to catch her breath. He tasted a bit salty from their workout and his skin was warm and clean from the shower.

His arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her more firmly against him as he turned his head and deepened the kiss. She moaned in appreciation as his tongue massaged hers with knee-weakening precision. Her mind had conjured up plenty of dreams over the past two weeks, but nothing compared to the real thing.

He moved before her brain could catch up, flipping their positions and pressing her to the wall in his place. The scent of his freshly washed hair added to her growing haze of lust as he surrounded her. She ran her fingers up his chest, around his neck and into his hair before tugging lightly. He groaned in response as his hold on her tightened.

She whimpered in desperation, wanting - no, _needing_ \- more.

Killian abruptly stopped the kiss and dropped his hold on her. She felt the loss of his body heat as he backed away. She opened her eyes to see him smiling with a glazed look in his eyes as he touched his lips, “That was…”

Emma was trying to catch her breath, unsure what to say.

 _That went further than I thought_ \- she scolded herself, locker rooms were gross and not the ideal place for a romantic interlude - _but somehow that wasn’t nearly far enough._

“A thank you,” was the first thing her lust-addled brain could muster as she tried to sidestep around him. Her knees felt a bit wobbly and her heart hammered in her chest.

He reached for her hand and stopped her retreat with a small tug back in his direction. “Perhaps you should tell me what I’ve done,” her eyes were transfixed on his mouth as he placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, “So I can do it more often, love.”

_But he’s going to get better soon. Then what?_

She mumbled something out in reply and left in a hurry, with Killian smiling wide the entire time. Her mind and body both in turmoil, she didn’t bother to look back.

 _I am so screwed_.

* * *

 

Killian sipped his rum while his eyes swept over the room. He’d arrived a bit early on the off chance that Emma would take him up on his invitation to trivia night with the guys.

 _Emma_.

Just the thought of her name brought a dopey grin to his face. She was feisty and beautiful; as graceful (and ferocious) as her namesake on the ice. She was everything he never knew he wanted by his side.

_And damn could that woman kiss._

He started to grow hard at the mere thought of their kiss. He had been moments away from losing all control in that locker room; her whimper snapped him back to reality and forced him to step back.

He wanted her - _bloody hell_ did he want her - but he had a sudden realization that he really _liked_ her. She made his heart beat again, and he wanted more than just one - no doubt amazing - night. If he hadn’t pulled away, one night was all she’d have given him.

The usual crowd was here and he avoided the stare of a familiar, blue-eyed brunette at the bar.

_She’d been a good lay, but that’s about it. No substance._

His concern for substance was a new concept as his mind kept drifting back to the fierce green eyes that had stared him down all afternoon.

They had an amazing connection on the ice - he wanted to explore it further. He had a sneaking suspicion that chemistry would extend far beyond the rink.

The door opened and Will swaggered in, August not far behind him. Killian waved so they’d see that he’d grabbed their lucky table in the back.

As they approached, he noticed the impressive shiner Will sported. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Got into a bit of a scrum in the last game.”

Killian snorted and clapped him on the back. “You couldn’t wait till I’m back on the ice to cover your sorry arse?”

Will shrugged and hung his head. He opened his mouth as if he was about to retort when August interrupted.

“What’s got you in such a chipper mood?” He eyed him suspiciously. “We half expected you’d be nursing a hangover and drowning your sorrows since Doc still hasn’t cleared you to play.”

“Did you have a threesome or somethin’ mate?” Will shoved his finger in Killian’s chest.

“Of course not,” he shook his head with a chuckle and sipped his drink.

August stared at him. “You’ve been skating!”

Killian’s face heated with a flush of guilt. He couldn’t hide anything from his teammates; they knew him too well.

“You have!” August poked him in his sore ribs to make a point, “Killian, Doc said no ice time! Your ribs need to heal after being bruised like that.”

“I’m not daft, Booth,” Killian rolled his eyes and took a sip of his rum. “I’m taking it easy.”

“Where’ve you been skating, mate?” Will leaned back swirling his drink, “I mean - most rinks ‘ave so many people - surely you’d’ve shown up on Instagram or Twitter by now.” He paused and wiggled his eyebrows, “The ladies love you and your bad boy image, after all.”

“It’s a little place over in Cambridge, near the Harvard rink.” He shrugged. “Granny Lucas lets me in after hours sometimes.”

“What were you doing over there?” August asked.

“It was the first home game for the new women’s pro league. Figured I’d check it out, show Boston some support.” Killian was trying desperately to stamp down thoughts of Emma on that ice; her blonde braid swinging behind her as she flew with grace and ease down the rink.

“Women, you say?” Will asked, curiosity peaked. “How’d they do?”

“They’ve got some real talented ladies,” Killian smiled, no longer able to contain his thoughts of Swan and her fury towards her linemates, “if not for the way the Mills sisters fought. With each other. On the bench.”

“Seriously?” August asked, “Aren’t they on the same team?”

“Same line,” he took a sip of his rum, hoping to appear nonchalant as he continued, “I feel bad for the Swan lass, she was hung out to dry because they wouldn’t pass.” His smile had to be giving him away by now, but he couldn’t control it. Emma was a force to be reckoned with, and he’d witnessed her rage boiling over from his seat behind the glass. “Cost them the game.”

“What’s that smile, then?” Will eyed him, “Surely a lost game and some alone time on the ice don’t warrant that.”

“Yea,” August studied Killian’s expression, “You’re definitely leaving something out.”

“Well, er -” he stumbled, trying to find the right words, “The Swan girl - Emma - she happened to be at Granny’s rink when I got there.” He shrugged, “So I wasn’t alone on the ice.”

“Oh, was she now?” Will’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline.

“And how did that go?” August added with a knowing smile.

“It’s nothing like _that_ , mates,” he tried to be a gentleman, “We just practiced some drills, I gave her some pointers -”

“Oh, some _drills_ ,” Will said sarcastically to August.

“Yea, and _pointers_ ,” August winked back.

“Will you two bloody stop it?” Killian scowled at them. “She’s like a mind reader on the ice, just knows where to be, or where I’m going.” August and Will exchanged a knowing look, as Killian scratched the back of his neck. “After our ice time this afternoon, I invited her here. I don't know if she’ll come, but I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“Wait,” August said, “you saw her _again_ today?”

“Ya invited her _here_?” Will’s eyes widened, “To play?”

“Aye, it really isn’t the big deal you two are making of it -” He saw a flash of blonde enter the bar, and lost his train of thought the moment his eyes met hers.

She was weaving her way through the crowd in a red leather jacket and jeans; her hair loose down her back. Quite a different look from sweats and a ponytail at the rink. She looked stunning.

“She’s here,” slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to cover the wonder in his voice. He couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across his face.

“See that, Booth?” Will nodded at Killian. “It’s not a big deal.”

August rolled his eyes. “ _Clearly_ we’re reading too much into it.”

* * *

 

_I’m so screwed._

She had been repeating this mantra to herself all afternoon. As she approached the Tavern she trailed her fingers across her lips. Her body was still vibrating with the need that she’d stoked by kissing him.

It was easy to admit she wanted him - but she was also trying to figure out why they had such a connection. He was likeable and she _wanted_ to spend time with him - but who knew how much longer he’d be secretly skating on his own? Once he was cleared by the team doctor he’d be back with the team practicing and no doubt carousing with them after games. That would leave little time to be hanging around Granny’s small rink and working drills with her. He couldn’t possibly find the time to spend with her for much longer.

She’d enjoyed the ride on the ice, now she had to take advantage of the opportunity to see what it would be like to ride him off the ice. The black lacy bra and panty set she’d picked out may have been in the hope that her dry spell would be ending tonight.

She slowed as the bar’s flashing neon sign came into view. Now was the chance to see if he could back up all his innuendo with action.

_I really need to get laid._

She shifted on her feet while staring at the door of the bar. A group of college students jostled her and pulled the door wide, spilling light and music out into the street. Emma took a deep breath and trailed in after them.

She pushed through the crowd near the entrance before she finally spotted him at a table in the back. His blue eyes locked on her and a bright smile flashed on his face instantaneously.

His hair was adorably tousled and his eyes sparkled with promise - a promise she hoped she could take advantage of.

* * *

 

“Shut up,” Killian hissed at his teammates as Emma pushed her way through the crowd, “And remember… good form.”

The men all stood as she approached the table.

“Gentlemen, this is Emma Swan,” he gave a theatrical flourish with his hand, “And Emma, these two gits are-”

“August Booth and Will Scarlet-defenseman and winger -” she rolled her eyes and shook their hands, “I know.”

“Oh, I like her, Jones.” August grasped her hand a little longer than Killian liked.

“Yea, I like her…” Will quirked an eyebrow and made no secret of admiring her rear end as she took a seat “... spunk.”

_I’m going to murder them both when Doc gives me clearance to skate._

“What are you drinking, Swan?” He decided to ignore them and turned toward her instead. “I need a refill, so I’ll get this round.”

“Whiskey sounds like a good option if I’m to put up with this crew.” August and Will managed to look chagrinned and raised their glasses in toast.

Killian downed the rest of his rum and turned to the bar. He worked his way through the press of people gathered, making sure to avoid the lass he’d recognized earlier. It was far too long before he got the bartender’s attention, and by the time he returned to their table the trivia teams had been picked.

“You’re stuck with Will.” Killian wanted to wipe the smugness off of August’s face. “Emma and I are a team.”

“Great,” Killian tried to keep the aggravation out of his voice, “thanks for that.”

“Well it’s her first time playing,” August squeezed Killian’s shoulder, “I figured she’d want to be on the winning team.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m not as well versed in the trivial bits of information needed to excel at this game?” Killian slid Emma her drink and pulled his chair a little closer to hers.

“Let’s just say I didn’t want to get stuck with Will.” August slapped him on the back.

“Oi!” Will glared at August before tipping his beer back, finishing it off.

August’s eyes sparked with mischief; Emma had a hint of a smile curving her lips.

 _Bloody bastard_ , he brooded silently, _he did that on purpose_.

He leaned in to her space before her attention was lost to the game. “I’m glad you came out to join us, Swan,” he whispered, trying to avoid unwanted attention, “I must say, you look ravishing in those jeans.”

She nudged him with her shoulder and smiled as the bar quizmaster turned on the microphone and the crowd settled down around them. Killian elbowed Will aside to grab the pen for their answer sheet.

“In terms of the amount of alcohol you get,” called the emcee from his place on the stage, “which is the most expensive: whiskey, beer or wine?”

“That one’s easy,” Will grinned and whispered “beer” into his ear.

August leaned into Emma's personal space to murmur to her and drape his arm across the back of her chair. Killian gripped his pen tighter and slouched lower in his chair.

“Next question,” the voice boomed through the bar speakers, “Which mythological figure flew so close to the sun that the wax of his wings began to melt?”

“Ooo, I know this one!” Emma beamed excitedly and shifted in her seat to whisper into August’s ear.

Killian glared at August’s smug expression and looked to Will, who gave him a blank stare and shrugged, “You’re bloody useless, Scarlet.”

Killian scrawled a name just in time for the next question. “What year did the Olympics first allow women’s hockey?”

“If you get this one wrong, Jones,” August smiled and sat back with his arms crossed, “She may never speak to you again.”

“I’m not _that_ mean,” Emma laughed and shook her head, “but you better get it right.” He hoped that he wasn’t looking as panicked as he felt at that precise moment. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize the gold medal ceremony.

August was to the point of tears from whatever Emma had whispered in his ear. “Oh God, Emma,” he clutched at his side, “You have to come to one of our practices.”

“You’re in trouble now, Jones.” Will pointed at the empty spot on the answer sheet and chuckled.

Killian’s gaze slid across the table to take in how intimately Emma and August leaned into each other whispering and tightened his grip on the pen as he tried to grasp at his sparse Olympic knowledge.

“You have no bloody idea,” he glanced down at the empty answer and tapped the pen against the table as Will snickered. Killian elbowed him in the ribs, “I don’t hear you helping, _mate_.”

* * *

 

With the game over, Killian’s mood appeared to improve. She suspected it may have to do with the fact that August wasn’t hanging onto her every word. The emcee weaved among the teams to collect their answer sheets.

She was pretty sure that they hadn’t won, but she and August definitely knew more than the Killian and Will duo. She had to admit that Killian had not hidden his jealous streak all that well and it was fun to torture him just a little bit, if only to see the tips of his ears turn red.

Killian made Will pay for the next round, before he and August excused themselves go across the bar and flirt with a large group of women.

“When’s your next game, Swan?” Killian asked placing her fresh drink in front of her, “I really enjoyed your home-opener, and the boys want to come to your next one.”

“Wait,” she was stunned, “You actually came to our game?” she assumed he had streamed it on YouTube. Her ears burned in shame, “You saw the Mills sister meltdown.”

“Aye,” he chuckled, “I was surprised to see you at Granny’s rink when I got there. How’d you beat me?”

“I, uh -” she sunk down in her seat, embarrassed, “- kind of flipped out on them in the locker room and drove right over there without showering or putting my game gear away.”

“I would’ve been just as angry,” he admitted. She finally chanced looking up at him and saw nothing but truth. “They were unprofessional and cost you the chance at two goals.”

“THANK YOU!” She nearly shouted in relief. “That’s exactly what I said. We would’ve won!”

He chuckled again and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. She sucked in a breath and her eyelashes fluttered as his touch lingered on her neck.

“Aye, you definitely would’ve.” He pulled his hand away and took another swig of his drink. “How do you know Granny, anyways?”

Her spine stiffened. It was hard to explain her closeness to Granny without delving into her painful past. But, she had read his bio and knew he was an orphan too. So, maybe a few little nuggets about her wouldn’t hurt.

“I, uhm,” she hesitated, trying to find the words, “I didn’t have a lot of stability in my life until I found my way into that rink when I was eight.” She smiled fondly at memories of Granny fawning over the poor, orphan girl with shoes two-sizes-too-big. “I learned how to skate on that ice, and she made sure I always had donated gear to play in.” Emotion welled-up inside her and she knew she had to finish and deflect the conversation. “If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be where I am.”

Somehow in the course of their conversation he had gotten closer to her, their knees bumped against one another under the table. He brushed his thumb along the apple of her cheek and she leaned into his space, drawn to him.

“Somehow I think you would’ve managed it, love,” he finally whispered before he pulled back again and broke the brief moment.

“So how do _you_ know Granny?” she toyed with her glass, “You seem to have the same off hours access that I have.”

“Well, I fancy myself a supporter of the local establishments,” he ran his hand through his hair and scratched the back of his neck. “Granny’s is well known in the neighborhood and I’m happy to share some of my good fortune to help some of her youth programs.”

_Maybe there’s more to him than I want to admit._

She took a slow sip from her drink - trying to reconcile the playboy with this new information as she licked the remnants of the expensive whiskey from her lips. Killian’s eyes were locked on the motion, his own tongue mirroring the path on his lips.

Her conflicted thoughts about the man sitting beside her suddenly got replaced by her lust once more. She wanted that tongue to run along _her_ lips instead and maybe along -

“Oi, Jones!” Will’s voice interrupted her fantasizing as he slapped Killian on the back. “I’ve found a car companion that is far lovelier than you, mate. So I won’t be needing that ride.”

Killian jumped - startled, “Excellent,” a grin spread across his face. “But I doubt you’ve found someone lovelier than me.” He returned Will’s back slap to send him on his way. “Enjoy yourself mate.”

Emma held back a smile at the exchange. She liked Killian’s friends, but she needed to get him alone if she was going to put her lingerie to good use.

* * *

 

They climbed into the black town car and sat in silence after Emma gave Killian’s driver her address. The air practically crackled with electricity. She inched closer on the cool leather seat until her leg brushed against his.

Killian turned to say something, she didn’t give him a chance before she leaned in and sealed her mouth to his. He responded immediately, his hands wrapping around her waist as she gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him against her. She sighed into his mouth, finally able to relieve some of the pent up desire that had been simmering in her since this afternoon.

His lips were soft and pliant beneath hers and he nipped at her lower lip. When she angled her head and pressed closer he groaned, fueling her want and sending tingles down her arms.

_I need to hear it again._

She shifted towards his body and could feel the muscular lines pressing through their shirts as pulled her tighter against him.

Emma pulled back to catch her breath. Killian looked as wrecked as she felt. He tugged her into his lap and pressed his forehead against hers.

“You’re so bloody beautiful,” he whispered reverently.

“I -” she stuttered, unsure of what to say. She never expected so much sincerity from hockey’s favorite scoundrel. He wasn’t at all what the media made him to be.

Her train of thought was lost as Killian placed gentle kisses across her cheek and down her throat. She allowed herself to finally relax into his lap and moaned as her center settled over his obvious arousal. She couldn’t resist leaning forward on her knees, angling herself against him, rubbing just enough to make her breath catch.

He gripped her hips, anchoring her to him in a possessive manner, before his tongue darted out to taste the hollow of her throat. She threw her head back in encouragement as she slowly ground her hips down on his; wound so tight she would surely break if they weren’t alone soon.

He muffled his groan by biting gently on her neck. “Killian,” she gasped breathlessly as he surged forward with a growl and grasped her ass firmly with both hands.

Their lips found one another again in desperation, as her mind swirled with emotions. She was starting to think once with him would never be enough. Emma slowly dragged her right hand down his neck, and scratched lightly along his collarbone - eliciting another core-clenching groan from him - before she stopped over his pounding heart.

She was already on the edge of an orgasm - dry humping an NHL all-star in the back of a car like some teenager - she should feel embarrassed as she circled her hips. Her tension had stretched to the point of snapping; she held her breathe lost in the firm grasp of _need_.

She couldn’t remember ever wanting someone so much. Her hand drifted further from his chest and down his stomach. She heard his intake of breath when her fingers barely brushed below his belt buckle before a clearing throat sprang them apart.

The car had stopped - _when did they stop?_

“Sorry to - er - interrupt,” said the driver, “but we’ve arrived at your address, Ms. Swan.”

She chanced a look up at Killian. His head was thrown back, and his eyes were shut tight -  almost as if he were in physical pain.

 _God can I sympathize_. Her body ached for him. She needed Killian now.

Emma leaned back into him and kissed up his neck and to his ear. “Do you want to come upstairs with me?” she whispered.

She pulled back expecting to see relief on his face, but instead found agony.

“Aye, I do… but not tonight,” he smiled at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes, as he tucked her hair back and cupped her cheek. “I want you, but I’d like to do this properly, love.” His thumb grazed her lips. “Will you allow me to escort you to dinner later this week?”

“I -” she stumbled over her thoughts; confusion clouding her lust. “There’s no need to wine and dine me; you shoot and you’re going to score.”

She pressed her lips back to his and kissed him hungrily. Forgetting they had and audience, she ground down against him, and grinned in triumph when he thrust up against her. It would be easier if he gave in - then she wouldn’t have to let the hope that there could be more creep its way into her heart.

When she pulled back from the kiss, she saw Killian’s resolve teetering from the furrow in his brow and clenching of his jaw. She grinned victoriously as she swiveled her hips again.

He groaned and dug his fingers into her hips - holding her in place.

“I like you, Emma,” he said through clenched teeth as one of his hands buried itself in her hair and brought their foreheads together. “I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

Panic rose in her throat as his words sank in.

_He is a millionaire playboy. He can have any woman in the world._

He couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he meant. She was a nobody and chances were she would be the one heartbroken in the end.

“I - I can’t,” she finally managed, “You have tonight,” she shut her eyes, no longer able to stomach the crestfallen expression she saw reflected in his, “Take it or leave it, Hook.”

She told herself using his nickname made it easier.

His lips gently pressed against her forehead before he murmured, “See you at Granny’s on Sunday, Swan?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she climbed off his lap and opened the car door, not once looking him in the eye - too afraid of what she might see.

She couldn’t risk falling for him, so she did was she did best… She ran.

* * *

 

Before Killian knew it, Emma was off his lap and out of the car - the door shutting quietly behind her.

“Well, that was...” his long-time driver, Marco, cleared his throat from the front seat, “... different.”

Killian groaned as he scrubbed his hands roughly through his hair, before he dropped his head back on the headrest.

“She’s different,” he sighed, as he shifted to adjust himself.

He couldn’t believe he’d told her no. He was so hard it was to the point of painful. The way her hips had circled his had conjured all sorts of images of what lay ahead if he went up to her flat.

“Marco,” he ran his hand down his face, “Get me home, please.”

_Quickly, before I jump out and follow her._

Sunday he’d fix it. He’d seen the panic clear as day before she ran from the car. Their practice session would give him the chance to convince her of his intentions.

 _Shit,_ he realized, _I don’t have her number._

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, Killian,” Granny said as she locked the door behind them Sunday night, “I don’t know where that girl is.”

It was almost laughable - the first woman to make him feel something in years left him before they even had a chance.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Lucas,” he tried to smile, but it felt insincere. “I’m sure something came up or she forgot.”

She patted his cheek with a sympathetic smile before turning to her car. She knew as well as he did that Emma didn’t forget.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, then?” she asked as she opened her door.

“Aye,” he mumbled, determined to keep trying. She would have to come skate eventually.

After all, a man unwilling to fight for what he wanted… deserved what he got.

* * *

 

Emma glided through the quiet rink in nothing but her sweatpants and zip-up hoodie. The rink was empty and dark - _just like my heart_ \- as Granny prepped to close.

 _I was a coward_.

Two weeks later, she could finally admit it. She had avoided Granny’s altogether the first week, and only came after closing since.

 _I miss him_.

She shouldn’t miss him. She only saw him on four different occasions; two of which were on the same day. It was crazy, _right?_

She’d run - and regretted it - but felt too foolish to seek him out.

_How would I even begin to seek him out - even if I wanted to?_

He had been back on the ice for two games, and had played like shit. He was ornery and quick to fight; she was pretty sure he had spent more time in the penalty box than on the ice in the second game. She couldn’t watch after the first period (and his third penalty); she turned the TV off.

A lot of players struggled to get their head in the game after an injury. It had nothing to do with her - it _couldn’t_ \- that would be ridiculous _._

_Right?_

He was playing again right now. She thought maybe if she skated instead of watching she would escape her thoughts of him. Practicing was supposed to distract her, but the empty ice taunted her with memories of their time on it.

_I miss having him around._

_But I can’t risk my heart._

_He made me smile and I miss his laugh._

_Was I wrong about him?_

She sighed and slapped a puck as hard as she could towards the net in frustration.

Her mind drifted back to their make-out session during the car ride. It was the kind of moment that shifted your entire existence off-kilter. His soft pliant lips and roaming hands had brushed across her body each time she slipped her eyes closed.

Every morning for the past two weeks she awoke wet and wanting. On the second morning she had resolved to find someone – _anyone_ – to help her get some relief.

She went to a bar that night and met a man with dark blonde hair and kind, hazel eyes. She tugged him into a dark corner and pressed her lips to his; but it wasn’t right, she couldn’t do it.

The images of Killian pressing his body into her were too strong. She didn’t want anyone else.

She knew from past nights that she wouldn’t sleep without being exhausted first. So she picked up her pace and skated as fast as she could around the rink while working her puck handling.

“About time you showed up again, Emma.” Granny’s voice echoed over the rink. She dropped a milk crate onto the ice by the bench and tossed a few of the stray pucks that had flown over the boards into it.

Emma circled back towards her. “I’ve been busy with the team the last couple of weeks,” she lied, knowing full-well that Granny would never believe it.

She slid some of the extra pucks toward Granny, resigned to the fact that she wasn’t in the mood to hang around here much longer. Granny dipped down and grabbed more pucks, throwing them in the crate for the kids in the morning.

“You’ve been avoiding your ice time here, there’s got to be a reason,” she glanced over her spectacles at Emma. “It wouldn’t have something to do with a certain captain, would it?”

Emma tried to look nonchalant at his mention; but judging by the raised eyebrow Granny gave her, she had failed miserably.

“I blew it with him didn’t I?” She bent down to stack the rest of her practice pucks up for Granny. “I ran before I could get burned.”

“I know he has a well-known reputation in the public eye. It’s a persona he’s built to protect himself,” Granny said as she cleaned her glasses, “But he’s a good boy - with a good heart. He just has problems letting anyone else see him for who he really is.” She placed her glasses back on her nose and peered over them at her, “You know, you look like a lost girl out here all by yourself.”

Emma shrugged off the observation. “I’m missing that spark on the ice. I just need to refocus and work a little harder.”

“Maybe you should evaluate what’s changed recently,” Granny smiled knowingly, “Maybe you’re feeling a bit lost and adrift out on that ice without someone to pass to.”

Granny didn’t give her a chance to respond. She just winked, turned back to the front office, and strolled away with a smile on her face leaving Emma to wonder what she was up to.

* * *

 

Killian slammed the door of his SUV behind him and beat his hands on the steering wheel in frustration.

 _Three bloody games_.

Today was his third game since back on active status and he still hadn’t scored one goal - not even a bloody assist. He couldn’t snap out of his funk - he couldn’t focus at all. Emma consumed his every thought; he second guessed every move he made in the few weeks since trivia night.

He had turned her down. He wanted it to mean something; he wanted to actually try for something _real_ with her. Apparently he screwed up. All he’d gotten since was total avoidance.

He ran his hand through his freshly-washed hair and groaned when he heard his phone chirp in his pocket.

“I bloody swear,” he seethed to his empty car, “If this is coach or August with some peptalk about -”

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the name “Granny Lucas” on his notification screen.

**GL: You didn’t hear this from me. But I’m locking up in 30 minutes and there’s only one person here.**

“Thank you, Granny.” He smiled for the first time in weeks as he started his car and headed for Cambridge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been AGES and for that we apologize! There will be a small epilogue after this (when, we don't know - but it will come) and that's it for this story. Hopefully the length makes up for the wait, even just a little.

When Killian sped into the rink parking lot, Granny was sweeping out the entryway. She held the door wide for him as he jogged up.

“You didn’t _have_ to inform me of her whereabouts, Granny,” he leaned in and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Killian,” she winked and motioned him through the door. “Now, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Captain.”

He had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but didn’t get the chance to speak before she had the door shut and locked behind him.

It was eerily quiet following the click of the lock, so he pushed through the double doors to the rink. The ice was empty. He tried to tamp down the fear that he may have once again missed his chance with Emma.

_She must be finished with her skate._

Most of the lights were off as he made his way towards the locker rooms; he hoped she hadn’t already slipped out the back. With that in mind, he quickened his pace as he rounded the corner by the zamboni.  

Emma emerged from the locker room, her hockey bag slung over her shoulder while her attention was focused on her cell phone. Killian nearly barreled into her.

“Emma,” he grabbed her arm to steady her.

“ _Killian_ ,” came her breathless response as she stepped back from his hold.

Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, her skin flushed and appeared to turn a shade darker when she looked up at him. They both stood stock-still for a moment, and he wondered what exactly he should say to her. He was going to have to handle this delicately to avoid driving her away again. He probably should’ve taken the time to think this through on his drive over.

 _Or your two bloody weeks of agony, you wanker_.

Two weeks where it had dawned on him how well they clicked. Playing hockey was his job, and practice with the team was fine. But the connection the two of them had on the ice, he missed it. He missed _her_.

“I —” they both started at the same time, before Killian motioned for her to continue. He was curious to see what excuse she might come up with.

“I knew that old bird was up to something,” Emma grumbled with a ghost of a smile passing over her lips.

“I’ve been hoping to run into you,” he admitted softly, trying to catch her gaze, “but you’ve been rather difficult to locate.”

“I’ve - uh - been really busy the last couple of weeks,” she was staring at a spot on the wall behind him.

“Oh, I’ve no doubt you’ve been busy, Swan,” he smiled, half-heartedly, “busy avoiding me, that is.” He tried not to sound like a petulant child, but it was difficult to keep the hurt tone out of his voice.

“I - no, I haven’t been avoiding you,” she said, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“You know, I’m actually quite perceptive.” He couldn’t resist reaching out to brush an errant strand of hair back from her forehead. Her eyes finally met his. “And you missing our scheduled ice time, is avoiding me.”

 

* * *

 

Emma was stunned he was there. The only way he could have known was from the meddling rink owner.

_Why can’t Granny mind her own business?_

But, now he’d tracked her down. With no valid excuse, she shrugged, “You’re right,” she dropped her hockey bag on the floor, “I have been.”  

He shifted closer to her, his damp and dishevelled hair almost distracting her from the dark circles under his eyes. “Swan, the way we left things-”

“You’re playing like shit,” she interrupted him. She was in no mood to have a heart to heart talk with him. Calling him out on his recent play was a good way to divert him away from making her face her feelings.

“Aye, that’s an understatement.” His eyes widened as he swayed back and ran his hand along the nape of his neck. “Can’t seem to come close to even hitting the net.”

“Maybe you’re gripping your stick too tight.” Emma eased back into her comfort zone of teasing him about hockey. “But honestly?” she caught his gaze, “stay out of the box and don’t telegraph your shots with where you’re looking.”

He leaned towards her and flashed a playful smile, “Will you meet me for another ice session?” He reached out to tug on the strings on her hoodie.

_That is not at all what I expected._

She tried to keep her face neutral and not betray the surprise that he’d asked her to skate with him again. A glimmer of hope flared in her that he wasn’t abandoning her, and that maybe she hadn’t blown it by running.

“Not now obviously.” He shifted his weight back. “We’ve both just finished skating, but perhaps later this week?”

“Uh, sure,” she fumbled for an response. It was her fault that things were so awkward now; she really was sending the poor guy mixed signals.

“What assurances can you make that I won’t be stood up again, Swan?” He captured her eyes with his own, and she hoped that he didn’t read the trepidation she was fighting down.

“I’ll be there.”

He nodded at the phone in her hand, raising an eyebrow expectantly, “Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain?”

She gestured toward him, “Give me your phone, I’ll put in my number.”

 

* * *

 

 

**K: So you will be at Granny’s tonight, yes?**

**E: Yes, Jones. I said I would, didn’t I?**

**K: I’ll bring something warm to drink if that will ensure your presence.**

**E: Make it hot chocolate?**

 

* * *

 

Emma smacked her stick against Killian’s shin pad to get his attention, “Try this toe drag move.” She circled back around and curled the puck towards her skate before shooting it on the net.

They’d been baiting each other with a game of one-upmanship all evening. Granny’s words rang through her mind as she slid another perfect pass his way... _“Maybe you’re feeling a bit lost and adrift out on that ice without someone to pass to.”_

 _Damn Granny for always being right_ , she scolded herself, _but I was an idiot for blowing him off._

“Try this one Swan.” He picked up a puck and took a serpentine route around some cones to cut across the front. He finished with a spin move to roof the puck up beneath the crossbar, knocking their shared water bottle off the top of the net by the force of his shot. “You can use that move to keep your three game scoring streak alive.” He turned back to see her reaction, grinning wide and carefree.

 _So he’s been keeping track of my games?_ She could feel her face heat up at the realization, and hoped he didn’t notice.

He grabbed another puck and took aim along the bench where their empty hot chocolate cups sat. He managed to knock both of them off with one shot.

He looked like a kid in the candy store when he turned in her direction. She couldn’t help but return his smile. “Now you’re just showing off.”

He dipped his head as his cheeks turned red. How could there be something _else_ about him that she found endearing?

He whipped another puck off the boards and the thunderous sound hit Emma like a lightning bolt. It could work with him. If they clicked together so well on the ice why couldn’t it be like that off?  His reputation as the bad boy was not the Killian she’d gotten to know.

Her eyes followed him looping around with childish abandon. The time she’d spent ducking him had been empty - _lonely_ \- and the realization of how much she’d missed him was staring her in the face. _Damnit she had feelings for him and what the hell was she going to do now?_

He stick handled his way back toward her, “No love, it’s pure skill.” He bumped her shoulder, “I’ve got all kinds of talents.”

“Oh really?” Emma rolled her eyes while she leaned against the boards for a break, “I wouldn’t know that by watching your recent games.”

He chuckled as he came to a stop in front of her. “Right for the jugular then, eh Swan?”

“Just callin’ it like I see it,” she shrugged.

“Aye,” he nodded, “I’ll admit to not having my usual touch around the net of late.”

“Hmmm,” she skated past him for the puck pile - an idea forming, “maybe you just need better incentive to put the puck in the net.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” He stole the puck from her stick and danced away from her on his skates. “What did you have in mind?”

A smile bloomed across her cheeks as she made her way towards him. _Here goes nothing._ “How about, you score a goal and get a reward?”

“And what type of reward were you thinking, love?” He was no longer skating, just staring at her with an eyebrow raised high.

She crowded him against the boards and bit her lip as she thought of a way to bring him down to her level. He glanced at her, his eyes darkening with desire.

“I suppose we could brainstorm for some ideas.” She slid her leg behind his and pressed her hand to his chest. With just the slightest amount of pressure she knocked Killian off his feet and tumbled both of them down to the ice.

Emma landed on him with an ‘umph,’ his strong arms immediately wrapped around her. “You slew footing me is your idea of reward?”

“No, but now at least we’re on equal footing.” She laughed down at him splayed beneath her. “Now, as far as your motivation for putting the puck in the net,” she slid off him and leaned her back against the boards, “how about if you score a goal, I’ll agree to go out with you.”

_Did I really just ask Captain Hook out?_

She waited for the panic to rise - for her throat to constrict and her vision to blur - but it never came.

Killian whipped his head in her direction a flash of shock passed across his features before he slipped his self-assured, confident mask back in place. He propped himself next to her, bumping shoulders. “Is this a negotiation?” His eyes lit up in delight.

“Don’t push your luck, Hook,” she playfully jabbed her finger into his chest.

He popped to his feet and extended his glove to help pull her up. “You’ll have a front row seat next to the glass if you’ll allow me to give you my tickets to the game.” He leaned on his stick, “You can critique me in person.”

Emma reigned in the flutter of nerves with his offer. There was no reason she shouldn’t enjoy a rinkside seat to his game.

“Seems fair since you attended one of my games.” She pushed off the boards and headed back to the pile of pucks at center ice. He followed along behind her before speeding up and circling around her.

“What would you say to two goals in the game?” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “What sort of bonus would I get for that?” He skidded to a quick stop at the net to grab the water bottle. “Imagine the reward for a hat trick!”

She slid to a stop and leaned on the net, enjoying the smug look that spread across his face. “I think you may be getting a bit ahead of yourself, considering your recent games.”

She slipped her helmet off and bit her lip against a grin - and felt it widen as his eyes darted down to watch.The smouldering look he gave her made her breath hitch.

_I really want to kiss him._

“Maybe we won’t negotiate the terms, maybe I’ll leave that a mystery.”

“I do love a surprise,” he winked, pulled his helmet off, and dropped it on the net as he came to a stop in front of her.

Her heart began to race as he reached for her braid resting on her shoulder. He tugged a strand of hair as he curled it around his finger sending a shiver down her spine.

_God, I missed him._

He pulled her closer - her skates making it an easy task - and brushed his nose against hers.

The soft touch sent a flood of warmth down her body. She held her breath, trying to keep some semblance of control.

_Having sex in the ice rink wouldn’t give him much motivation._

She smirked as another idea came to mind. She leaned in and whispered, “No kiss until you score either.”

She dropped her arms and skated backwards, grabbing her helmet off the net as she passed.

“Bloody minx,” he growled.

“Just giving you more incentive.” She shrugged with a sly grin - she knew she was being a tease, “Otherwise you may never _score_.”

His laugh echoed through the empty rink as he put his own helmet back on and prepared to get back to their practice. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about me, Swan,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “I have a feeling my _dry spell_ will be coming to an end very soon.”

 _Me too_ \- she thought as she passed a puck to him.

 

* * *

 

Killian looped around the Garden ice one more time. He grabbed a puck and tossed it up over the glass to one of the kids watching warmups. The little girl caught it and shoved her friends aside as they tried to yank it from her grasp. He gave Emma a wink as he caught her gaze from his seats. As he skated past her he noticed she was wearing a game shirt.

_Is that my jersey?_

He could clearly see the Captain’s “C” on the front, but nearly careened into a teammate trying to catch the number.

With her challenge foremost in his mind, he focused on getting ready to bury every chance he got at the net. It wasn’t going to be easy; coach had demoted him to fourth line duty and penalty killing.

_Good thing I love a challenge._

Instinct took over once the game started. He waited anxiously on the end of the bench, watching the opposing goalie, noting his penchant for dropping down early. It wasn’t long before Will took a dumb slashing penalty and he got his first shift on the kill.

He was able to pick off a pass and streaked down the ice intent on getting a goal. One little head fake had the goalie making the mistake of flopping to the ice and Killian was able to rifle the puck into the upper corner of the net.

The building erupted into frenzied cheers but Killian only noticed the smile on Swan’s face as he grinned at her through the glass. It was a brief flash before his teammates were hugging him and whacking the top of his head in celebration. It was always an incredible thrill to score a goal, but the significance of this one made it that much sweeter.

Elated, Killian made his way to the bench; he couldn’t stop smiling. The extra pressure he’d been weighted down by not performing was lifted, and a calm focus settled in his mind.

_I’m going to do that again._

Halfway through the third period the coach rewarded his hustle on the ice and bumped him up to the second line. He was happy to be back with his regular linemates. It was only a matter of time before August set him up with a perfect pass to the front of the net where he tipped it in for his second goal of the night.

He caught Emma’s gaze as he looped by her after his celebration with the team. She raised an eyebrow with a flirtatious grin. Now he had no doubt he’d be getting another goal before this game was over.

_I can feel it._

Will bumped him as they made their way back to the bench, “Is that Emma I see in the crowd, mate?”

“You never invite girls to watch you play,” August appeared on his other side, “She wouldn’t happen to have something to do with your sudden focus, would she?”

He looked at them both as they grabbed their water bottles and sat down, “I’m not talking about this, so you two might as well bugger off.”

“He seems awfully defensive,” August raised his brow to Will.

“Yea,” Will nudged Killian’s side with a chuckle, “Maybe a bit… _on edge_.”

“Shut it, the both of you,” Killian said as he glanced at Emma through the glass. He could see her concentrating on the game, yelling along with the other fans when the calls on the ice didn’t go their way.

“The dopey smile is back,” August pointed out.

_When did I start smiling?_

“I’ll take that ridiculous grin to the scowls we’ve been gettin’ the last two weeks,” Will winked.

“Shut up and just help me get one more goal before the end of the game.” He squirted his water at them to distract them from giving him any more shit.

“Oi!” Will raised his glove to deflect the stream of water from his face, “You got somthin’ ridin’ on this?”

Killian clenched his jaw; he was in the zone and didn’t want to jinx the rest of his game. But he was determined to get that hat trick, he wanted to prove to the fans and himself that their captain was back.

He could feel August’s gaze on him, reading him like he always could, “You have some sort of bet with Emma, don’t you?”

Coach motioned for an upcoming shift change, so they put their water away and got ready. Killian turned to look at them both, “I already won the wager with Emma,” When they both opened their mouths to say something, he cut them off, “I’m not saying anything else about it, _mates_. Just help me get one more goal.”

Maybe it was the extra intensity Killian skated with, or the taunting by his linemates, but when the opposing player slipped by him his temper got the better of him. He couldn’t keep his stick from rising up to yank on the guy’s jersey. The player spun dramatically and fell to the ice and Killian found himself being sent to the penalty box for hooking.

“He embellished!” he fumed at the referee, angry at himself for taking the dumb penalty. Killian leaned back to watch his team play a man down for the next two minutes. He couldn’t bring himself to glance toward Emma seated in the corner. She’d no doubt be mocking him for living up to his nickname.

Killian leaped out of the box when time expired on his penalty. He was determined to make up for his lapse in judgement. Coach motioned for him to stay out on the ice as the closing minute ticked down. Will caught his eye from the far side and gave him a little nod. Killian put on a burst of speed and raced up the boards, weaving around opposing players. Scarlett made a perfect cross ice pass to him for a one timer that beat the goalie. Hats rained down from the upper deck of the arena. Elated, he bent and grabbed one, sailing it back over the glass to Emma who caught it and turned to high five her friend before flushing a deep red. The jumbotron caught it all and the crowd cheered even louder.

Will bumped his shoulder on the way back to the locker rooms, “Who was the pretty blonde with Emma?”

“No clue, mate,” Killian side-eyed him, wary at the idea of Will pursuing Emma’s friend when they were on such shaky ground as it was, “But you don’t need to concern yourself with her. There are plenty of women in Boston who don’t hate you yet. You have time to change their minds.”

“Oi,” Will puffed out his chest, “Women love me!”

“Until you don’t call,” Killian winked and walked into the locker room.

For the first time in weeks he didn’t throw his gloves into his locker in anger; it felt good to be back on track. He just had to get through the media circus, then he could find Swan and claim his kiss.

 

* * *

 

Emma and Elsa walked side-by-side to the parking garage after the game ended. Emma fiddled with the hat in her hand, a seemingly permanent grin on her face.

“That was so much fun, Emma,” Elsa beamed, “Thank you so much for inviting me!”

“I’m glad you came,” Emma smiled genuinely. Elsa was her teammate and one of her few close friends. “I’m sorry it was kind of last minute.”

“Oh I always have time for a hockey game,” Elsa laughed, “How did you get such amazing seats? We were right on the ice!”

Emma felt her face burn hot, she hadn’t told anyone about Killian. Only Granny knew, and that was because it was unavoidable.

Emma busily racked her brain, trying to come up with a valid excuse that didn’t involve Killian when Elsa piped up again, apparently too lost in thought to notice Emma’s hesitance. “And was it just me, or did the team keep glancing in our direction all third period?”

She’d noticed that too. It started after Will and August spotted her and clearly teased Killian on the way back to the bench after his second goal.

_Knowing those two, they probably pointed me out to the whole team._

Emma looked up and noticed Elsa was looking at her expectantly. “I- uh,” she couldn’t think of a single lie to cover.

“And Killian Jones threw that hat at you… and kept winking at our corner,” Elsa said, eyebrows raised high and her lips curled into a small smile, “Are you hooking up with Captain Hook, Emma?”

“What?” Emma’s face burned hotter and Elsa’s eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“If you don’t want to tell me, it’s fine.” Elsa shrugged. “But, I’m your friend, you can tell me anything.”

“I -” Emma started, but was suddenly unsure of _how_ to explain what was going on between her and Killian. Technically they weren’t dating - _yet_.

“Well, you weren’t imagining things,” Emma finally managed; fully aware that did nothing to answer Elsa’s questions.

“So he _was_ winking at you?” Elsa asked. “He has quite the reputation, what are you getting yourself into?”

Emma nodded, “So I may have run into Killian a month ago at Granny’s rink.”

“WHAT?” Elsa shouted, “A month - a _month?_ \- and you never told me?”

“It’s -” Emma was still trying to decide how to put their relationship into words. She sighed, “It’s complicated.”

“Well you’d better start talking,” Elsa gripped her arm, “Because if not…”

She left the threat open-ended, and Emma didn’t need her to finish, “Alright, alright.” She fidgeted under her gaze, “I swear I’m not trying to be cryptic.” Ok, so maybe she was trying to be cryptic, but this new feeling of hope in a guy was a little fragile in her mind. She didn’t want to overthink it by trying to define it for Elsa. She’d try to keep it as simple as possible.

They arrived at Elsa’ car, and she leaned against it with her brow raised in question.

“So after our home opener - you know, when I stormed out of the locker room?” Elsa nodded. “Well, I went right to Granny’s to shoot some pucks around and blow off some steam. He kind of showed up while I was there.”

“At Granny’s?” Elsa sounded just as confused as Emma felt when he’d first showed up. “But, Granny’s is tiny.”

“I know!” Emma was sure this would take forever to explain at this rate and she really wanted to go find Killian - she kept telling herself her need to see him had nothing to do with kissing him senseless. “Turns out he donates money to her youth programs.”

Elsa was about to ask something but Emma waved her off, “Just let me say it and then you can ask questions.” She nodded, so Emma continued, “We played at Granny’s rink a few times and then he asked me to meet him at a bar for trivia night with his friends.” Elsa bit her lip, obviously holding in a question. “He asked me out after and I -” _I was an idiot._ “- I turned him down and avoided him for a couple weeks. Then he tracked me down a couple of days ago and I gave him some incentive to score in the game.”

“Can I ask questions now?” Elsa asked, bouncing around on the balls of her feet. Emma nodded, “Why’d you turn him down?”

She was expecting a multitude of questions, and figured that one would come eventually, but she was hoping it wouldn’t be the first. “You know his reputation,” she shrugged - optimistic that may be enough.

“I wouldn’t think that would stop you,” Elsa mused, “Hit it and quit it is kinda your motto, Emma.”

“Yeah, I know.” Emma sighed and leaned against the car beside her friend, “But he didn’t want that. He - well, he wanted to really date me.”

“So you ran,” Elsa finished for her.

“Yeah.”

“But he hasn’t given up on you,” Elsa pondered for a moment before asking, “What was the incentive you gave him?”

“Um,” Emma felt her face burn red again, “I thought I would help him end his slump. So, I - uh - kind of made a deal that he could have that date when he finally scored a goal.”

“He got a hat trick!!” Elsa clapped excitedly, “Oh my gosh, that totally explains why he was so intense in the game.”

Emma felt like she was going to combust she was blushing so bad, “Well, not necessarily -”

“Oh shut it, we both know that’s why,” Elsa smiled and nudged Emma’s shoulder with her own, “So, do you like him? I’ve got to admit, I haven’t seen you smile this much in - well, ever, actually.”

“I do like him,” Emma felt a smile spread, “He’s nothing like his reputation would lead you to believe. I think he built up that bad-boy persona to protect the real him from the world.”

“Well you’re one to know,” Elsa gave her a knowing look before switching gears. “So when do I get to meet him?”

“I don’t know,” Emma grinned, “I don’t even know when the date is going to happen.”

She felt her phone buzz in her pocket and apologetically pulled it out to glance at the text.

**K: I look forward to our future rendezvous, Swan...**

A smile spread across her face and Emma could sense Elsa’s eyes on her goofy grin.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Elsa gripped her arm, “I can tell from your face.”

“Huh?” She looked up to find Elsa’s crystal blue eyes dancing with mirth. She nodded her head and bent to type a response to him.

**E: Will you be able to meet me before I head home?**

“Go find him,” Elsa shoved her playfully away. “Now I know why we arrived separately.”

“That’s not -” Emma started only to be cut off.

“Oh please.. Go congratulate him on an amazing game.” Elsa gave her a hug, “And tell him I expect to meet him… _soon._ ”

“Thanks again for coming with me, Elsa.”

“I will happily use Captain Hook’s tickets whenever you would like to take me,” Elsa grinned, “See you at practice.”

Emma mumbled a goodbye as she looked at his latest text.

**K: I’ll be stuck for at least another 30 minutes. The press wants to talk to the man of the hour ;)**

She walked idly away from Elsa concentrating on his message. It was getting late, but she was excited for Killian and wanted to celebrate. There was no harm in hanging around to see him.

**E: I can wait 30.**

**K: Meet me at the Bobby Orr statue?**

She reversed direction, walking against the crowd of fans still leaving the arena. She managed to avoid bumping into people as she jotted out a quick reply.

**E: See you soon.**

Streams of happy fans rolled down Causeway Street, meandering into bars or down into the train station to head home. The air had turned colder and she pulled her jacket tighter as she leaned against the Orr monument. It was the perfect spot to people watch, easy to pick out tourists taking selfies in front of the statue and the drunken townies yelling and making a scene stumbling across the street.

She hopped up on the ledge and dug her hands into her pockets. As she waited, her mind wandered. It was hard not to be excited for Killian’s breakout game. She knew firsthand how hard he worked and what a relief it was when a slump ended. It was a bit surreal waiting here for him. Watching him play she couldn’t deny the joy that came over her each time he’d scored and looked over for her reaction. She gnawed on her lip and imagined this as a regular routine. Sharing his excitement during games was something she could get used to. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing to allow him behind her walls?

 

* * *

 

Killian basked in the attention around his locker following the game. He’d had barely enough time to get out of his shoulder pads and loosen his skates before the reporters were crowding around, all wanting a quote. It was nice to be interviewed about scoring goals rather than his post-injury slump, but he wanted to get out of there and track down Emma.

_Emma._

He hadn’t had much time to send her a message, but was thrilled to know she would wait until the media circus had died down.

He finished up his last interview and ushered the few straggling reporters away from his locker so he could hit the shower and get out of here as soon as possible.

“Bloody hell, mate,” Will approached after the reporters finally dispersed, “Aintcha ever gonna stop smiling like that? It’s a bit creepy, really.”

Killian ignored Will’s jibe. There was no way he’d talk about this with him and curse his opportunity with Emma. Granted he was probably being a bit too superstitious but he wasn’t taking any chances with her and the fragile ground he stood on.

_I don’t want to chase her off again._

“Thanks for the assists on the hat trick tonight, Scarlet,” he slapped him on the back, hoping the deflection would suffice in changing the subject.

August walked out of the showers and to his neighboring locker. “Are you going to tell us what the bet was, Jones?”

_Of course Booth would ask that._

“I’d really rather not,” he sighed, “I need to get showered and out of here.”

Will side-eyed him, “Why’re you in such a rush?”

“Because Emma is waiting for him,” August shoved Killian playfully, “I’m guessing whatever happened between the two of you has been rectified?”

_It’s times like these I bloody hate how well he knows me._

“I really don’t want to jinx it, mates,” he pleaded.

“Alright, alright,” Will patted him on the back, “Go get your shower and get out of here, Jones.”

_You don’t have to tell me twice._

“Tell Emma we’ll be at her next game,” August ruffled his hair as he headed to the shower.

He cleaned up quickly and ducked out of the locker room with his head down, successfully avoiding any further delay.

There was an extra spring to his step when he caught a glimpse of her blonde hair and red leather jacket perched on the base of the Orr landmark.

“Lady Swan,” he bowed with a little flourish and stuck out his elbow for her to grab. “I know the perfect spot to grab a celebratory drink.” He gestured back towards the Garden.

“Congratulations on a great game, _Captain_ ,” Emma hopped down, grabbed his arm and followed his lead; he felt his heart rate quicken at her simple touch.

They strolled along with her pressed close against his side. It was taking every bit of his control to not pin her against the nearest surface and claim his reward.

 _She has to make the first move_ \- he reminded himself - _Good form, and all that._

“Speaking of captain,” he side-eyed her with an amused grin, “Just whose name is on the back of that jersey?” He tugged the hem where it hung below her jacket.

The immediate blush that spread across her cheeks was all the answer he needed. “My, my, Swan. I had no idea you were such a fan.”

He nudged her gently with his elbow and she responded with a smack to the chest, “Shut up, it was the only jersey I had with an _active_ Bruins player.”

He chuckled and bumped shoulders with her to tease. She appeared to be in as good a mood as he was and Killian heaved a sigh of relief that any lingering awkwardness seemed to be gone. He steered her towards the secure garage beneath the building where his car was safely ensconced. As they entered the players parking he could see her eyes widen as they walked among the rows of cars. “One of the perks of being a pro, “ he said.

“Well I’m a pro, and we don’t get anything like private parking spots,” she waved at the array of expensive vehicles. “We’re lucky if we get equipment and sticks.”

They stopped at his black BMW, and he moved to open the passenger door for her.

“The blatant disregard for women’s sports is a bloody shame, Swan.” He couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself as he brushed her hair behind her shoulder. “The boys and I can’t wait to see your next game.”

Emma turned toward him, “You guys want to come to one of _my_ games?”

“I love watching you play, Swan.” He gestured for her to get in the car, “You have a way of handling your -” he licked his lower lip and leaned in close to murmur against the shell of her ear, “- _stick_ that is incomparable.”

She stood her ground - ignoring his invitation into the car - and placed her hands against his chest, applying just enough pressure to keep him from crowding any closer. “I thought you were a gentleman, Jones,” she teased.

“Oh, but I am, love,” he took a step back, leaving her some space, “But I prefer dashing rapscallion.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, so he tried another alternative, “Scoundrel?”

“You’re something alright,” she said softly before tugging on his collar. He breathed in the scent of her and wrapped his hands around her waist to pull her closer. He was still buzzing from the adrenaline of the game and fought the urge to press her against the side of the car. He’d been anticipating this kiss all night, so when she turned her head at the last moment and brushed her lips against his cheek, he couldn’t hide the look of disappointment on his face.

She pulled back and smirked.

“That was,” he pressed his forehead against hers.

“Both a reward for your goal, and punishment for your penalty,” she patted his cheek playfully. “I mean, we did agree to a kiss, just not where.”  

He chased her lips a bit, but ended up brushing her nose with his own before a loud grumble from his belly forced him to pull back.

“Was that your stomach?” Emma teased and poked at his midsection. “We’d better get some food in you.”

“Aye,” he grinned, held the passenger door for her and tried his best not to stare at her arse as she climbed in.

_Food, concentrate on eating FOOD, not Emma._

It was a quick ride to the North End where Killian knew Ray’s place stayed open till midnight. They’d been ushered in through the back door to the room set aside for the players after games. He was relieved to see that they had the room to themselves. Once seated a waiter brought over several plates of appetizers and took their drink order.

They toasted the end of his slump and discussed the finer points of the game. Killian was impressed with her assessment of their forecheck and chuckled to himself when she complained about Will’s lazy neutral zone play. Hours were spent with coaches going over film of their games, but Emma’s observations were spot on. Admittedly it was much more enjoyable hearing criticism from her lovely lips.

That kissable mouth captured his attention and he felt a warm heaviness settle over his frame. He was finding it difficult to keep track of what they were talking about and tried to pick up where he’d left off in the conversation. Her eyes narrowed at him, and he hoped that it wasn’t too obvious how distracted he was. As much as he hated to do it, he couldn’t fight the post game letdown much longer and it was late enough to warrant wrapping up their evening.

“So, you didn’t drive to the game did you?” he asked while dipping his fried calamari in marinara sauce. He had to concentrate on not yawning.

“Nope, took the T,” Emma broke off a bit of garlic bread and popped it in her mouth while she eyed his weary state.

“So,” he glanced at his phone and checked the time as he attempted to mask another yawn, “you’re at _my_ mercy to deliver you home.”

He wanted nothing more than to freeze this moment in time where he was still riding his high from the game but also enjoying the company of a relaxed looking Emma Swan. He stretched his legs beneath the table, leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t help but follow the path of her fingers as they tore more garlic bread from the small loaf and raised it up to her mouth. She ran her eyes over his slouching form and he could tell that he wasn’t hiding his drowsiness very well.

As she glanced back up at his eyes, he was horrified to find himself fighting a sudden wave of fatigue. “Bloody hell, this is not how I envisioned celebrating.”

“You’re crashing, Jones.” Emma was quick to notice his failed attempt to hide another yawn. Of course she’d know the kind of energy drain playing in a hockey game had. There was no masking how quickly he was waning.

“Swan, I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I didn’t escort you home.” He wanted to grasp her hand and sooth away the look of concern on her face. “I’d hate to think of you riding the T alone this late.”

Emma frowned slightly, “Well, you appear to be fading fast.” She shifted in her seat, “I shouldn’t be keeping you out this late.”

“Well unless you’d like to crash at my place, we’ll have to get you headed home soon.”

“Ok,” she said pragmatically. ”How far of a drive is it?”

Killian tilted his head to the side and tried to make reason of what she had said.

_I must be more tired than I thought, because now I’m hearing things._

“I’m sorry, love, I’m afraid I’m a bit slow at the moment. Come again?”

“Ok, we’ll go back to your place,” she pushed back from the table and shrugged into her jacket while his mind was trying to catch-up.

_She’s actually agreeing to come home with me?_

“I’m not going to be responsible for you falling asleep behind the wheel because you’re being chivalrous,” she explained as she pulled him from his own chair, “Come on, Captain.”

“I live around the corner from the arena,” he admitted while grabbing his own jacket. “Just a quick five minute ride.”

“Let’s get your sleepy ass home then.”

He considered her standing next to him - relaxed and at ease with her Bruins jersey hanging long enough beneath her jacket to almost pass for a mini-dress. “Can’t wait to get me all alone, hmm Swan?”

“Maybe it’s part of your reward for the hat trick tonight.”

The sultry tone of voice got him moving, mentioning to the waiter to put their meal on his running tab.

 

* * *

 

Emma had just settled into the plush leather seat, getting her bearings on where they were headed before Killian was pulling up to a brick-faced building. “You weren’t kidding about around the corner.”

“I like to stick close to home.” He put the car in park and turned off the ignition. “Most of my teammates live in the North End. It’s just easier. On nice days I walk or bike to the arena.”

He hopped out and reached for the handle just as she opened her door. “Bad form, Swan,” he tsked as he helped her out of the car, “you’re depriving me of my gentleman courtesies.”

She rolled her eyes as he closed the door, “You’re tired and I can get out of a car just fine on my own.”

He chuckled as he led her up the steps to his door. She took a minute to assess how she found herself standing on his front step; about to go into his house. Admittedly she was both excited and nervous. When she saw how tired he was at the bar, she knew she couldn’t let him take her all the way home. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him on the drive back to his place. Without her company to occupy him, he would be sure to doze off behind the wheel. She also knew arguing with him about riding the T would be pointless - because he would have the same fears about her.

“Welcome to my humble abode, love,” he said with a hand flourish as he turned on the foyer lights.

She walked in and set her purse on the table next to where he’d tossed his keys. The entryway had stairs on the right leading to the second level, but to the left it opened into a modern living room with a large sectional surrounding a square coffee table and a TV bigger than Emma’s car. She wandered down to explore what he had propped along the top of a bookshelf. There were a few pucks marking landmarks in his hockey career. She was bending to look closer at what appeared to be a family photo when she heard him approach.

She turned around and found him right behind her, shoes already off and a pair of bottled waters in his hands. His hair was tousled in the ‘just out of the shower look’ - her fingers itched to run through it. His drowsy grin and socked feet made him look adorable. He gestured toward the couch and she headed in that direction. Her fingers brushed against his and the air between them crackled with tension after taking the proffered drink from his hand. She settled on the couch and he slid in next to her.

_I can’t believe I ran from this._

Killian sighed and reached down to press a button, raising his feet up to recline. He arched an eyebrow at her and lifted his arm to rest along the back of the couch. It was all the invitation Emma needed. She nestled alongside him, toed off her shoes, and propped her feet next to his. Sprawled out, she relaxed back into the couch. The view of the harbor was impressive; the boat lights reflected off the water and the large wall of windows made for a romantic panoramic landscape just outside his balcony. His hand slid down to drape along her shoulder, pulling her closer to him.

“You know Swan,” his voice sounded lower and his accent stronger in his tired state. “You have to take some of the credit for getting me out of my slump.”

She snorted derisively. “Unlikely, Jones.”

“No,” he toyed with a lock of her hair, sending a shiver down her spine with every gentle tug. “You truly have an eye for the game and your critiques during our ice sessions were very helpful.”

She’d like to say that his compliments made her blush with pride, but her face was already flushed and hockey was the last thing on her mind at the moment. His sleepy voice was doing things to her, and being tucked against his warm body had her heart pounding.

He looked down at her, captured her gaze and tugged on the sleeve of her hockey jersey. Softly he brushed his nose along her neck, breathing in deeply. “I’d really like to kiss you, Emma,” he whispered into her skin.

The adorable way he phrased it had her mind screaming- _god, yes!_ -but she tried to play it cool, to not simply jump on him and yank his sweatshirt over his head. Much as she’d love to ravish him, he _had_ just played a hockey game. The poor man must be tired. She turned and leaned in, not stripping his top off, but instead, slipping her hand beneath the hem to brush up his abdomen. His skin was warm beneath her fingers and her breath caught in anticipation. “Then why don’t you?” she asked.

 

* * *

 

His heart was pounding in his chest as her fingers caressed the hair that lined his stomach. He thumbed at her chin, tilting her up at just the right angle to slant his mouth over hers. Unlike their kiss in the locker room, this was slower, more gentle; he was in no rush and wanted to savor her.

As his lips teased hers, nipping and drawing them along his, her hand snaked up higher beneath his sweatshirt. His heart raced in anticipation of where her hands may wander next.

He resisted the urge to pull her on top of him as her mouth became more insistent against his. As she leaned closer something hard jabbed into his newly healed ribs and he couldn’t hold back the wince of pain.

“Shit! Did I hurt you?” Emma pulled her arm free from beneath his shirt and leaned away from him.

Killian reached between them, cursing his tender ribs and pulled the remote control for his television from between the cushions. “No love, no harm done,” he chuckled. “Never can keep track of this bloody thing.”

Emma glanced at his television, her eyes narrowed in on the clock on the cable box, “Just in time to catch the game highlights.” She grabbed the remote from his hand and powered the television on. “Don’t tell me you don’t watch your own press.”

He bent to nuzzle along the line of her neck, “You’re much more entertaining at the moment.”

She wiggled in closer to his warmth turning to catch a glimpse of the sports news. Killian stroked the hair back from her cheek and pressed another kiss to her lips. He could get used to this post-game snuggling if Emma would be amenable to it.

“Killian,” she giggled as she pulled away, “we’ll miss the game coverage.”

He ignored her and pressed a line of kisses down to her collarbone. His body felt heavy, weighted down and relaxed, willingly sinking into the couch and pulling Emma closer. He breathed in the scent of her while his eyes drifted closed and he nibbled at the side of her neck. She shifted against him and he cracked open an eye to catch her peering at the television.

He paused his nuzzling. “You’re bound and determined to watch that aren’t you?”

“Shhh,” she pressed her fingers against his mouth and pillowed her head on his chest to face the TV, “They’re about to show your locker room interview!”

Killian groaned and slumped back onto the cushions. Even though he was frustrated in his attempts to distract her from the sports news, he couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she wanted to see the replay of his hat trick.

“Would you like some popcorn to make your viewing experience more pleasurable?”

Emma’s eyes twinkled as she slid her hand back up beneath his sweatshirt. He tried to keep from shrinking away from her tickling fingers.

“You fit the bill for making the viewing pleasurable.” She patted his stomach and turned her attention back to the television. He settled back and tried not to cringe in embarrassment when his own face appeared on the screen sporting sweaty hair sticking up in all directions. Instead, he tried to distract himself by stroking Emma’s hair where it trailed down her shoulder. It was gesture meant to sooth her, but he found his own eyelids drooping closed. He half listened to the droning of the commentators and breathed in deeply trying to hide the yawn that threatened to overtake him. He struggled to keep his head from bobbing and to not nod off on Emma, but it was a losing battle.

Emma sighed and settled in closer. As he drifted in between consciousness and sleep, he couldn’t help but reflect on how much more enjoyable cuddles with Emma was to banging some nameless puck-bunny he picked up at the bar. As he drifted off blanketed by his Swan, it wasn’t hard to envision this scenario after every game.  

 

* * *

 

Swimming up from a deep sleep, Killian realized Emma was wrapped around him on the couch. The first hints of pale sunlight filtered in through the large bay window and he squinted over at the cable box to see what time it was.

_Shit I have to be at practice soon._

He gently tried to extricate himself from the blanket that was Emma Swan. He didn’t want to disturb her sleep. She mumbled and tried to grip him tighter. It appeared as though he’d have no choice in the matter.

“Emma, love,” He tried to sit up, “you’ve got to wake up.”

She grumbled and raised her head, squinting at him. “What time is it?”

“6ish,” he helped prop her up at the same time as straightening the reclined couch. “I’ve got to get to morning skate and check in with the team doc.”

Emma yawned and stretched her arms above her head. He smiled at the way her tousled hair tangled in her hands as she fought to pull it back into a ponytail. A crease lined her cheek from his sweatshirt and he couldn’t resist rubbing his thumb over it.

“You’ve got quite the mane there, Swan.” He couldn’t help but tease as she finally managed to reign it in.

“I need caffeine if I’m going to deal with you this early,” she grumbled at him as a wide grin spread across his face, “Can you give me a lift home on your way to the rink?”

“It would be bad form if I didn’t”

 

* * *

 

He opened the passenger door for her and once again offered his elbow.

“You really don’t have to walk me the five steps to my door, you know,” she shook her head but took his arm, “I’m a big girl.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to just drop you on the curb, love.” He chuckled as he placed his warm hand over hers and started towards the first step, “And it is - like you said - only five steps.”

They came to a stop and she rummaged in her bag for her keys. Killian swayed into her personal space and appeared reluctant to leave her.

“Thank you for coming to my game, Swan,” he tucked her an escaped curl behind her ear, his touch lingered across her jaw. “It was excellent incentive to perform at my best and it was an honor seeing your lovely face screaming obscenities at my teammates from behind the glass.”

“I’ll gladly keep you on your toes whenever you’d like me there, Jones.” It was out of her mouth before she had a chance to think.

“Well then,” he raised his eyebrows, but Emma was too busy watching his tongue along his lower lip, “you should consider them yours whenever you are free for the game.”

She shook her head, “I couldn’t -”

“Yes, you could,” he took the hand that wasn’t holding keys and kissed her knuckles, “I’ll let will call know that they’re yours.”

She really didn’t feel right. She just had to protest once more, “But, what if -”

“Swan,” he stepped closer and pressed his finger against her lip to stop her, “all of my friends and family are on the ice with me. I’ve told the team countless times I don’t need the tickets, but they insist.”

She knew her whole team would be astounded if she tried to talk her way out of _free_ hockey tickets. So she sighed - _maybe a little over dramatically_ \- and smiled up at him through her eyelashes. “Thanks, Killian.”

“Don’t mention it, Emma.” He so rarely called her by her first name, the way it rolled off of his tongue was music to her ears. She was struck with the thought of what other things his tongue could be doing.

He had been so careful with his touches all night; and she was tired of it. She pulled on his collar - eliminating what little space remained between their bodies and touched her lips to his.

He paused for just a moment before leaning in to deepen the kiss. The gentle tug of his fingers made her scalp tingle as his hand cradled the back of her head. He surged forward anchoring them against the door. She knew he was talented at throwing his weight around on the ice, but this was a much more enjoyable version of body checking.

“Killian,” she gasped as he peppered kisses down the hollow of her throat. “I -” she searched for words as he nibbled his way back up her neck.

He released her reluctantly, “I’ve got to get to practice.”

“I’m starting to think you were put on this planet to drive me crazy, Jones.”

His chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest as he dropped his head to her shoulder, “Could be, love.” She sighed as he took a step away from her.

“We should do this again,” she got up on the tip of her toes and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he picked her hand up and placed another chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Until then, Emma.”

He backed down the steps and she smiled like an idiot the whole time she fumbled with her keys.

Now, standing alone in her apartment it suddenly hit her how comfortable she was with him. She had been worried that things between them may be weird - especially after her poor reaction all those weeks ago. But conversation flowed easily, even without the ice under their feet.

_Maybe things could work out with him._


End file.
